


Special Ops

by MenthaLightfoot



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Library, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenthaLightfoot/pseuds/MenthaLightfoot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Combeferre are in the library late one night, and decide to practice some authority-evasion techniques. Things devolve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Ops

**Author's Note:**

> For invisibleinnocence, for her eighteenth birthday.

Enjolras skidded into the Spanish language section, his hand clamped firmly over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. He slid as quietly as he could to the far end of the stack and slipped around the corner, into the tiny sliver of a corridor between the shelves and the wall. He waited, grinning and breathless.

The two of them had the library to themselves. It was long past closing, two AM on a Saturday (Sunday now, technically), but he and Combeferre had stayed late to get a jump on next week's assignments. The last librarian to live had given them a look of pity as she'd shouldered her bag. Most of the library staff knew them and admired their work ethic, so Combeferre’s supervisor had long ago given Combeferre every weekend night shift, and was trusted to close everything up when he was finished with his work. 

But tonight, things had degenerated rather quickly, around the end of the second pot of coffee. They had been talking about the use of police force during the 1968 Student Protests, which had lead to a discussion of modern riot squad procedure, and what they could do to prepare. And from there any hope of work was pretty much shot to hell.

Enjolras's body primed. He heard something shift in the darkness. _Nice try_. Combeferre's steps were quiet, deliberate, but the wear in the rubber soles of his shoes made them squeaky, and Enjolras could estimate his location. _The German section._ He fitted his back to the wall and started quietly to the right, staring hard into the darkness between the shelves in case Combeferre decided to take off his shoes and try to sneak up on him.

He was halfway through Russian Literature when there was a tiny metal click; a bookshelf partition being brushed. Enjolras's head snapped to his left.

“Shit!” He sprinted down the corridor, laughing. Combeferre's fingertips brushed the collar of his t-shirt, but he pushed ahead, breaking away by cutting through the wider hall between biology and psychology and turning down towards food science.

Enjolras made his fatal mistake by trying to slip back downstairs through the back stairwell. The main stairs at the front were still open, but these had been locked when the maintenance people left, and he couldn't come up with a new plan fast enough.

“Got you!” Combeferre's arms circled his waist, their bodies crashing into each other. Enjolras tripped over his own foot, and they were sent to the ground.

Enjolras wriggled, trying to get back on his feet, but Combeferre was quicker, and before Enjolras could sit up he was being pressed down by his shoulders.

“Honestly, that was almost too easy,” Combeferre teased.

“Who says I'm down yet?” Enjolras asked. He jabbed his fingers into Combeferre's sides, making him squirm, but Combeferre grabbed his wrists, forcing them to his sides.

“If I were a member of the riot squad you would be handcuffed already.”

“It would be pointless to handcuff my hands to the front. And you really should have tackled me from behind,” Enjolras hooked his leg around Combeferre's and twisted, flipping them over, and held him down by his biceps. He grinned. “Or I can easily get away. Rookie mistake, Mr. Riot Squad.” He’d pin his wrists, and that would be that.

Combeferre wrapped his legs around Enjolras's waist, and they flipped again. “I have more body weight,” he panted, “Someone my size will always be able to wrestle you down. You should have tried to run for it when you got the upper hand on me, instead of gloating.”

Enjolras grit his teeth. “Oh, like you're not gloating, you fucking tree. You're 6’3”, I'm 5’10”, we all know it!” He kneed Combeferre’s hipbone, and the force of it was enough to break his hold. Enjolras scrambled backward, but Combeferre pulled him back down by his belt loops.

He straddled Enjolras, holding him down by sitting on his hips. Enjolras swore under his breath and kept wriggling.

“I think I’ve won,” Combeferre said.

“You haven’t cuffed me yet,” Enjolras said.

“I’m sitting on you. I think that clinches it pretty well.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Not to me.” He gripped handfuls of the sides of Combeferre’s shirt and tried to use his upper body strength to topple him, but it wasn’t enough. Combeferre grunted and pushed him back down into the carpet.

“Come on, Enjolras.” Combeferre’s face shone with exertion. His glasses were about to fall off his nose, and his hair was sticking to his forehead.

“No.” Enjolras tried again, twisting his hips more forcefully, but Combeferre didn’t budge.

Combeferre’s eyes darkened mischievously. He lowered himself so that their bodies were pressed flush against each other. Then he matched their hips and _rutted_.

Enjolras gasped. His hips fell straight into the familiar rhythm, following Combeferre’s up into a smooth grind. He bit back a moan.

Combeferre chuckled. “Muscle memory.”

He took Enjolras’s wrists, and gently pinned them to the floor at his sides. “I win.”

Enjolras huffed, “That’s…that’s cheating.”

 “The goal was to immobilize you and cuff you. There were no rules against unorthodox tactics.”

“ _Cheating_.”

Combeferre shrugged, his smile far too satisfied.

Enjolras set his jaw. He shifted a little under Combeferre’s weight, and nudged his leg in between Combeferre’s.

“But unfortunately, now you’ve put yourself at a disadvantage,” he said. He rubbed gently, and Combeferre groaned. His grip around Enjolras’s wrists tightened. Enjolras caught Combeferre’s lips, tugging the bottom one with his teeth. “We both know I don’t need to be on top to make you scream.”

“‘Unfortunately’?” Combeferre mumbled against his lips. He let go of Enjolras’s wrists and wrapped his arms around Enjolras’s waist. Enjolras shivered. Their fighting had ridden his shirt up, and Combeferre’s hands were chilly from the pumped up A/C. Long, nimble fingers traced over the sides of his ribcage, gripped softly at his hipbones, and just barely grazed lower, skimming below the waistline of Enjolras’s jeans. “I don’t see how I can lose in that situation.”

“Oh, just you wait. When we get home I’m going to make an example of you.” Enjolras buried one hand in his hair, grabbing a fistful and tugging, until their lips met again.

At first it was rough. Enjolras pried open Combeferre’s mouth with his tongue and immediately went for the spots that he knew were sensitive. He hooked his legs around Combeferre’s waist and started thrusting.

Combeferre groaned. He tilted his head to the side, letting Enjolras’s tongue have its way, and gripped the bend of Enjolras’s knee to pull him closer.

Then they slowed. Combeferre cupped Enjolras’s face in his hands. His thumbs rubbed circles on the apples of his cheeks. Enjolras sighed. His body went lax. Combeferre’s weight felt good on top of him, pressing, but not demanding. Their hips slid against each other, unhurried, just finding and taking pleasure in each other. The finish would come later; for now they could be easy.

Combeferre smiled when they parted. He rested his forehead against Enjolras’s. “I love you.” His eyes glowed, melted chocolate with a dab of warm caramel around the center.

Enjolras sighed. He kissed one corner of Combeferre’s mouth, then the other. The upper lip, then the lower.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at menthalightfoot.tumblr.com


End file.
